


everything's weird and we're always in danger

by pirateygoodness



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8480503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: Amaya is limping as they walk back to the Waverider. Sara helps. (Set post 2.03-ish.)





	

Amaya is limping as they walk back to the Waverider. 

It's subtle - she's covering it well, walking straight-backed to guard the leg that's bothering her. But there's a give to her step when she lands on her left foot that Sara can't help but notice, a slowness to her movements that Sara's never seen from her after a fight. Mick stumbles into her as she walks up to the Waverider's door, and she gives him a look like she's ready to deck him, a sure sign that she's in pain. 

(Probably. Mick is, after all, still himself.) 

 

Sara gets the Waverider flying. She's still getting used to this. There's a difference between being a pilot and being a captain, and she feels it. It's still new to not be able to linger with the rest of the team, to set a course for the next destination, to feel responsible for shepherding everyone onto the ship. 

She sets a course that gives them plenty of time to coast through the timestream and recover. The last mission was a rough one, and even if they do have time pirates to catch, the whole crew needs space to regroup and recover. Sara could use a few hours of the ship on autopilot to sleep. 

She sees Amaya again as she walks away from Gideon's main console. She's still dressed in her period finest, stalking around the galley, halfway through making herself something to eat. The space is deserted, but Sara's not surprised. The way Amaya's chopping onions, with an angry purpose like they owe her something, she definitely seems like a person who wants her space. 

Sara can't help but notice the set of her jaw, the way her limp seems a little more pronounced now that she's alone. 

Sara lingers at the galley door, considering. Her arms and legs are already starting to get heavy, her body practically aching for sleep. But Amaya's new here, and clearly hurt, and Sara's pretty sure a good captain wouldn't just leave her to herself. 

She's starting to understand why Rip was always so grouchy. 

"Hey," she drawls from the doorway.

Amaya spares Sara a glance. Her jaw tenses, a little, and Sara can't tell if that's irritation or pain. "Sara," she says. "Or are you going by Captain, now."

"Sara's fine," she replies, taking a few steps into the galley.

She sits on a barstool across the counter from where Amaya's chopping, generating a little pile of onions and now peppers. "What's for lunch?"

" _Breakfast_ ," Amaya says. She shifts her weight a little bit and moves the few steps to the fridge with visible discomfort, returns with cheese and the carton of eggs. 

"My mistake," Sara says. "How's your leg?"

Amaya's jaw tenses again - definitely irritated with Sara's presence, her questions. "Fine." 

"You sure?" she says. "Looks like it's a little tender." 

"Well, maybe if time travelers wore _practical_ shoes to fight, this wouldn't be an issue." 

Sara sighs. It's not a secret that Amaya's not a natural time traveler, but she doesn't have the brain power to deal with that right now. "You should let Gideon take a look at it." 

Amaya flinches a little, looks up. "I'm not trusting that - that AI, or whatever you call it." 

Sara tries, fails to hold back another long-suffering sigh. She's definitely not getting that nap. 

When she looks at Amaya, again, she seems different. There's a lot less of that Justice Society of America persona, that ruthlessness and professionalism she values so much. Instead, Sara sees a woman, out of her own time, all alone and trying not to look scared. It starts an ache going in Sara's own chest: there's a chance she's been in that position, herself. 

"I'm not a doctor," is what she says. It comes out a little harsher than it needs to, but Amaya doesn't seem to mind. 

"Believe me," Amaya says, voice full of disdain. "I know." 

Sara does her best not to roll her eyes. "Meet me in my bunk in a few minutes. I'll see what I can do."

 

Sara isn't a doctor, but she knows her training injuries and her first aid, better than she'd like. The League teaches first aid with a curriculum only a bunch of assassins could dream up, and she's had more than her share of chances to use it. Amaya eases her foot out of her boot with enough gentleness that Sara's sure whatever's under there, it's pretty sore. 

"You can sit on the bed," Sara says. "If you want." 

Amaya obliges, kicking her boot away and half-collapsing onto Sara's bed. If it bothers her that it's only half-made, sheets crumpled together at the foot of it, she doesn't say anything. 

There's no blood, but there's angry-looking swelling all the way from the bottom of Amaya's calf down to her toes, and some early bruising starting near her heel. "We really should get Gideon to at least do an x-ray, make sure it's not broken."

"I _told_ you -"

"Yeah, I know what you told me. I'm just saying." 

Amaya rolls her eyes. "Your bedside manner is appalling." 

Sara takes a long breath, sighs it out as slowly as she can. Amaya's not acting much differently than Sara would in the same set of circumstances, but being on the other side of it is a pain in the ass. "I told you, I went to assassin school, not medical school. Is it OK if I move it, a little?"

Amaya nods. Sara takes Amaya's foot as gently as she can, tries to remember her anatomy. Her whole ankle is hot to the touch, and Amaya hisses when Sara angles it inward. It looks like it's just sprained - at least, it looks like ankle sprains Sara's seen before - but she's also pretty sure that Amaya's the type of person who could walk around on a broken ankle out of sheer warrior's stubbornness. 

"I think it's just sprained," Sara says. "Do you know how to wrap an ankle?"

Amaya frowns. "Wrap with what?"

Sara pauses for a moment. She doesn't have the foggiest clue when tensor bandages were invented, but the look on Amaya's face tells her it was probably after 1942. "Just give me a minute." 

There's tape and bandages and all sorts of gadgets in the med bay, but Sara keeps her own stash of 2016-era first aid supplies under her bed. She reaches over and rifles through the basket, frowning until she finds what she's looking for: a fresh tensor wrap, still in its plastic packaging. 

"What's that for?" Amaya asks. There's tension in her voice, and Sara feels her chest squeeze a little at the sound. For all of Amaya's bluster, she's still a woman out of her own time. 

Sara tries to keep her voice gentle. "If your ankle's broken, it's basically just decoration. But if you've got a sprain it'll keep it stable, help it heal up a bit nicer."

Amaya nods. "That sounds okay." 

She extends her leg a little bit, holding her ankle out for Sara. Sara wraps as gently as she can, layering the bandage from the middle of Amaya's foot to the bottom of her calf, tucking the ends under as neatly as she can. Amaya watches the whole process intently, and Sara can't tell if she's supervising or trying to learn but it makes her feel a little self-conscious as she works. 

"How's that?" Sara asks, once she's finished. Amaya presses her foot to the ground tentatively. "Not too tight?"

Amaya shakes her head, looks approvingly at Sara. "It feels a little better," she says. There's gratitude in her voice. 

"Yeah, well, if it's not getting better in a day or two you're going to have to see Gideon," Sara mumbles. She's not shy - she's _not_ \- but something about Amaya's attention on her makes her want to deflect it. "Even if I have to drag you there myself."

To Sara's surprise, Amaya smiles in reply. "I think I can live with that," she says. "You know, I've still got breakfast to finish. If you're hungry." 

Sara's not hungry so much as she is exhausted, but it has been a few hours since she's eaten, and she knows a gesture when she sees one. "Yeah," she says. "Breakfast would be great."


End file.
